


False Shame

by jupitardigs



Category: Batman: The Animated Series, DCU, DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Fetish, Guilty Pleasures, Implied/Referenced Torture, Injury, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Revenge, Sadism, Somnophilia, Torture, Unconscious Sex, Unconsciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:34:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24740857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupitardigs/pseuds/jupitardigs
Summary: Slade rescues Nightwing, but finds himself trying to ignore certain... feelings...Aka : Slade is a sadist and likes the sight of beat up Nightwing.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 123





	False Shame

Slade stood silently, overlooking the valley below with a narrowed eye. His night vision filter, effects dulled by the rain, cast the forest in vivid green, lighting up roots and branches that lined his path.

A thin mist snaked across the warm earth, muddling everything around it, turning objects into shadows and silhouettes.

Slade carefully made his way down from his perch, moving quietly but swiftly through the knee high grass. He was following a slight and almost nonexistent path of flattened grass and a time-sensitive trail of blood.

Despite a calm demeanor, something that came rather naturally to him, frustration and panic was weighing heavy on his chest. That damn boy just could not stop getting into trouble and putting himself in the way of unnecessary risk.

Nightwing was missing from Bludhaven for over a month. Slade had only bothered to notice when multiple Bats kept on showing up in unusual places. Black Mask had gone above and beyond to ‘relocate’ the boy; his intentions being the absence of a Bludhaven’s more consistent hero and giving Batman a distraction.

Slade’s reaction (one of immediate anger and panic) surprised himself, but being - admittedly - a rather self-interested man, he was unwilling to doubt the feeling and began his search immediately.

After several weeks of dead ends, he finally got a lead. A few hundred miles from Metropolis, right smack dab in the middle of nowhere, Black Mask had a small hideaway, tucked away in the countryside. However, he arrived to chaos. 

It was late, cloudy, and cold. Beams of light darted across the field surrounding the safe house as dark-clothed figures shouted back and forth to each other.

Nightwing had escaped.

Slade listened in on their radio frequencies just long enough to get an idea of what happened and how long ago, before hiding his vehicle and setting out to find the trail he knew would exist.

It had started raining harder and Slade felt himself growing agitated as he watched his trail disappearing right in front of him. Wind coaxed flattened leaves back up again and the rain washed away what little blood remained.

Then suddenly-

Slade heart thudding in his chest (all against his will, of course) as he approached.

Curled in the grass, completely unmoving, Nightwing lay in a torn and bloodied mockery of his normal suit. His mask was ripped on one side, separated by a deep gash over his eye. His arms were still tied tightly behind his back, the rope browned by blood. Every inch of exposed skin was decorated in bruises, cuts, and lacerations alike. 

Slade felt his gut tighten. He swallowed heavily and knelt down next to the body.

To his surprise and immediate relief, warmth still radiated under the beaten skin and a slow and shallow breath raised his chest ever so slightly.

As carefully as he could, he tenderly looped an arm under the boy's legs and head, lifting him from the wet ground and shielding him under the bulk of his own body.

And with a steady but quick pace, he began his way back.

.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Slade shed his armor on the floor as he dried his hair half heartedly with a towel. Nightwing lay on the bed, still unconscious, but stable.

He dressed the worst of the wounds and cleaned the rest. He had picked shards of glass and rope fibers from deep gashes, splinted broken fingers, and washed away weeks worth of oil and grim from his body. 

He was furious, yes. But every time he brushed across a particularly sensitive patch of skin and Nightwing grimaced or winced in his sleep, Slade felt his stomach clench.

Not in anger or disgust.

No… 

To his utmost shame, it was arousal.

He fought through it though. What mattered was Dick’s safety and health, not his own personal struggles.

But now, Slade was all too aware of the body that lay helpless and exposed, bandaged and beaten, on his bed.

He swallowed heavily, only half aware as he moved and not realizing what he was doing until he was atop of Grayson, his hands on either side of his head, his legs straddling his waist.

Another heavy swallow as he dug his fingers into the sheets. Dick’s face didn’t move at all. It was so pale, so still.

Slade felt himself rut against the warmth below and unconsciously, his hand drifted to his waist, gently touching himself through his pants. He growled at the stimulation, and turned back to Dick.

A single dark eye scanned the lithe body underneath him. Heat surged to his gut every time he passed over a vivid, deep bruise or swollen cut.

Stiff fingers undid his belt quickly and he pulled down his pants just enough to slowly start to jerk himself off, resting his head on Dick’s shoulder and staring down his chest at white bandages and patterned cuts.

Dick’s slow, feathery breaths were so close to his ear, sending fresh waves of heat straight to his groin. Slade clenched his teeth and began to speed up, pumping his member steadily

He lifted his head, studying Dick’s face. The long black lashes, the cut above his eye, the way his brows pinched with discomfort every time the bed creaked or shifted underneath. 

With one hand, he gently coaxed a hand under the boy's head and leaned down, kissing him deeply. His mouth was warm and malleable. Slade’s tongue searched Dick’s empty mouth. His teeth bit and pulled at his bottom lip. He grunted with pleasure as he tasted the sharp iron tang of blood, seeping from a split lip.

Slade felt pressure building in his gut and quickly sat back up, wanting to take in everything. To make the moment last. He worked a hand over Dick’s chest, touching everything. Running his finger across every cut, bruise, and bandage he could see.

Dick visibly recoiled as Slade touched an especially sensitive injury on his shoulder, and he retreated for only a moment, before curiously returning his hand and pressing on the spot with his palm. Dick’s back arched ever so slightly. His jaw stiffed, and a whimper escaped his throat as his body reacted to senseless pain.

That did it... 

Slade grunted as he came, shooting ropes across Dick’s chest. He worked himself through his orgasm, still pressing on Dick’s shoulder, reveling in the boy's reaction. He finally paused, falling back on his heels and breathing heavily, admiring his work.

Slade trailed his thumb through the mess and smiled as Dick shivered underneath him. 

_Beautiful._

But just as quickly as it seemed to start, the moment was over. Slade’s eyes narrowed as he climbed carefully off the bed.

The crashing realization of Dick’s situation and those involved in getting him there sent an all too familiar feeling rocketing through his chest.

Revenge.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever _sexy_ story. I do a lot of implications in my writing, but I've never gone into detail. I hope it turned out good.
> 
> School is officially over, so hopefully writing will be easier.
> 
> I still have an idea for another series, so I hope to get that out this summer.
> 
> xoxoxo


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